The Mission
by Bloodrope
Summary: Art thief and forger, Rosemarie Mazur has left on Art Collector and Dealer Dimitri Belikov's door a very pricey work of art. Rose though is on the hunt by a group who had paid her to steal it. What happens when Rose comes out of hiding to reclaim it?
1. Summary

Summary of my new story:

**Title**: The Mission

**Author**: Bloodrope

**Fandom:** Vampire Academy

**Characters:** Dimitri/Rose

**Genre:** Romance/Crime

**Rating:** T for now

Rosemarie Mazur is on the run from the Strigoi for having a painting (Dega) that she had stolen from the Marseille Exhibit in France. The owners who had hired her to steal the famous painting (Les Choristes) never received their product. Instead, they got an almost identical forgery. Since then there has been a price for the young thief's head. However, shockingly enough, one dewy morning Art dealer and art collector Dimitri Belikov received his shipment of a recently purchased at auction in London Balloon flower (Magenta) which was sold at Christie's. When he opened the box, he had found not only the sculpture that he purchased but found a fabric wrapped painting, which was underneath the figure. When he unwraps it he finds the stolen Dega painting with a note stating that it is not to be sold, that it is for his "personal" collection; the name signed on the letter unreadable.

Now Rosemarie is coming out from hiding and making herself known again with, trading pricey sculptures, forging art and paintings and she is coming for the Dega. What happens when the bounty hunters who have been on the search for her find out that Dimitri has the Dega? Is she willing to get close to the man who is guarding her most famous heist or is she going to altogether forget?

**A/N:** Feedback is greatly appreciated! Tell me what you think, should I make this into a story? Let me know~


	2. Chapter 1: The Calling

**Title: **The Mission

**Author: **Bloodrope

**Fandom: **Vampire Academy

**Rating: **T

**Prologue:**

_I was absolutely out of my mind. I just had to be. No one in their sane mind would actually decide to break into a museum… well on second thought that was practically my job but back onto the topic, no ordinary person would attempt something that would end them up in jail for the rest of their lives. I mean they wouldn't right? Then why was it that I had to be handpicked out of a billion of others in this ever so cheery world to be chosen? Those lucky normal oblivious bastards. _ An internal conversation with yourself usually means one of two things, either you are bored out of your mind or you're crazy… Both at the moment are currently on the table to be evaluated if you ask me but I was definitely going for the latter in this situation.

**Chapter 1: The Calling**

_If you were one-step away from making the biggest score of your life, would you walk away?_

The maddening cry of something roaring near my head was interrupting me from my very comfortable dream of being "invited" to the white house. I had walked in a crimson Prabal Gurung floor-length gown with a pair of Christian Louboutin pumps. As I walked down the beautiful corridor to the dining hall, I had excused myself from the couple I had walked in with and wandered down the halls where the secret service had a watchful eye. I smiled at them as sweetly and as innocently as I possibly could without detecting any unnecessary attention and gazed up at the walls, where priceless antique paintings were hung. An indiscreet thought passed through my mind if they had any sensors on the frame or if it was weight detected and would the guards trample out from the peaceful dinner we were invited for to retrieve the painting. The internal battle of "testing" out the President's security was tempting but I couldn't be too greedy tonight. Instead, though I took a few vigilant steps towards one of the framed works of art that was of previous President. At least that's what I thought because it seemed that the man's scruffy yet defined cheekbones were starting to hallow inward, while his aged white hair started to turn to a light shade of blue before it gradiented downward towards his scalp a pink. His thin lips started to lift upward in a sinister smile, but never opening while his painted oceanic blue orbs started to flicker around as though trying to gain a sense of clarity. I leaned forward my arm lifting to touch the canvas when to my right I sensed someone was there, their eyes burning deep into my skin. A light musical sound started to echo from the dining hall, the sound of violins playing Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Violin Concerto No. 5 in A. Wait, how did I know this? I wasn't a classical music type of girl though I did appreciate the beauty and simplicity that it held as it captured people's souls.

A heated wave of air brushed across my exposed neck and a slight wave of Goosebumps flickered across my olive skin. A man with a tenor voice chuckled and the only reason that I was able to figure that out was well because no woman could have such a hearty laugh… unless they were from the circus. Not that I had anything against them, eh perhaps I did.

"Miss, I believe you are missing the grand show of the evening. Would you allow me to escort you to the dining hall?" His voice sounded as smooth as velvet and I was instantly enwrapped by him, though I hadn't yet seen him. My attention revered towards the now normal and non-gradient haired painting thank God.

The man in front of me was of thin build I could only assume and had a wave of messy salt and pepper hair, which seemed out of place with his penguin suit. He held out a white gloved hand and my darkened irises looked to what was in his right hand; a sleek black cane with a white tip at the bottom and at the base where the hand would wrap around was the head of a Gryphon in what looked like to be in white gold or sterling silver. Against my better judgment, I placed my hand into his. Warmth was radiating from the wool glove as his fingers enwrapped my own dainty hand. A light pressure was initially then the pain became more noticeable, enough to disturb me. My wired eyes traced over his strong bold features before landing on the oddly placed sinister smirk that ravished across his thin lips as he yanked my body towards him unexpectedly.

"Now now my dear, don't make a sound. If you do, there shall be consequences to be paid. Now follow me and let's have a chat."

Fury flickered behind my dark chocolate orbs. I was infuriated. I didn't know who this man is and it seems that I'm now fish bait. Any witty response that I normally would've slithered as a retort ceased its make way at the base of my throat. Its inability to allow me to send my raging profanities towards his direction was just pathetic.

Like a lackey, I followed orders, and as we passed by men and women in dark suits with a transparent wire attached to the left side of their ear canal, I tried to make eye contact with them. Nope, it seemed that the only thing that these hired people honestly cared about was the big man in charge, not some woman who was literally being kidnapped if you wanted to be technical. Oh, no that was just too much of a hassle to deal with. If you were on fire or perhaps the man who was "escorting" you out of the Entrance hall of the White house was waving a gun and stating he wants to have a "chat" with the president or he'd kill a hostage, then it seems that'd be in their résumé of interest to intervene. I cursed a few nasty phrases mentally and sent them glares that went by unnoticed.

The man's arm slinked down my back until he wrapped his arms around my waist. It was as though he was trying to make his point that I was in his clutches. That or try to escape. The latter seemed much more reasonable. I did know that there would be a lot of people, mostly imbeciles with Nikon camera's clicking away, capturing every movement of those who elegantly walk through the doors. The absolute glory that it was to be a Paparazzo.

As we walked down the stairs, flashes of lights immediately clouded my vision but after a few milliseconds, they ceased. My feet were taking me somewhere though my mind couldn't seem to place where. I heard a car drive up towards the gate but didn't see. Everything seemed to mix, intertwine with one another blurring. It was as though that piece of information wasn't anything important; that it should be discarded without hesitation and I didn't push further on the issue.

The next thing that my mind conjured was that I was alone. My breathing was the only thing that I could hear besides my erratic heart that filled my ears. Darkness surrounded me, casting a veil that I couldn't remove from my eyes. If I squinted I could just barely though make out the frame of a door or that was what I thought it was. The most odd thing though was that I wasn't uncomfortable. I was sitting on a rather comfortable couch. The leather was soft to the touch and the stitching was thick underneath my fingertips.

The door opened just as I was making myself acquainted with the chair and thankfully so. Had I been alone for much longer let's just say that I might need to go to a place where white padded walls were going to be my new best friend. I'm exaggerating of course but can't a girl try to make her point on how annoying it was to be left to her own devices when even she doesn't know them? My eyes lifted from their fixed position on the nothing around me and locked onto the same elderly gentleman who had ever so kindly escorted me from what would've been an experience of a lifetime. Light illuminated everything as he stepped in. The same sinister smile that had been engraved onto his pale features was still in place. He bowed his head and I angled my head.

"Let's cut the crap old man. Why did you just abduct me?" I tried to state in a calm tone, but anger just seemed to lace itself around each word that left my plump lips.

He laughed blatantly, amused and leaned against the doorway.

"Miss Mazur, surely you shouldn't be upset. I have a proposition for you. One that would be worth your very precious time."

My interest slightly perked up, but I was hesitant. Hell, for all I knew this man was coming to bait me, get a reaction and then chop my head! I leaned in forward, putting up a façade and tried to look professionally curious.

"And what is this proposition that you are sure that will be worth my time?" I smoothly stated in a calm tone, my eyes never leaving his Chrystal blues'

His smirk faltered and it looked as though he was frazzled that I gave in so easily. Score 1 for Mazur, 0 for the old geezer. I internally cheered at his reaction. He took a minute to compose himself and probably rephrase any rebuttal he had towards my decline that was assumed to pass from my lips.

"Something that is well in your expertise. I'd like you to bring me a painting that is at the Cantini Museum which is in Marseilles, France. To be brief I'd like for you to retrieve Edgar Degas' Les Choristes. Of course, pay wise you'd receive a hefty sum unless you have a set price. I'm sure we can negotiate something that can accommodate you."

I was intrigued and just as I was going to inquire more about what I was to be implicating myself in this annoying beeping noise intertwined itself into where I was at. It was so familiar, I just wanted to smack it away, ending its pathetic existence, and return to serious matters at hand. However, nothing in life ever turns out the way we wish. The old geezer who was once in front of me, disappeared though I was still sitting on the couch but everything was starting to fade. It's opacity which was once vibrant was becoming transparent before once again blackness consumed me.

The noise however was continuing and I regained consciousness, my arm flailing about to where the incessant being was going to meet the wrath that was my fist punching it into obliteration. My hand started palms down hitting the alarm clock and after a few tries success met my way. I muttered a curse at whoever decided to come up with such a devious invention that was more troublesome than figuring out how to work a coffee machine. A groan fled from my closed lips and I involuntarily opened my eyes to a slowly lit room; the sun making its presence known as it raises itself up from its lovely slumber and announcing that the new day was to be started.

A sound of someone banging on my door instantly brought me back to my senses. I lifted my still sleepy body up from the warmth caress of the large cotton duvet and slipped on a pair of black skinny jeans that had been tossed onto the floor from the previous night. I padded across the freezing hardwood floor towards the door, swinging wide open not caring that I was in just a pair of shorts and a white tank that barely covered my midriff. The door slammed against the doorstopper causing a pitched rumbling to emit from its coils before hitting lighter against the wall. I yawned loudly and covered my mouth barely squinting open one of my eyes to revel a suit. Armani maybe? No it had to be French, something foreign. The dark fabric with gray stitching was one thing but the slight scent of Armani code. The fresh yet brusque scent tickled my nostrils and I lifted my head to be greeted by Emerald orbs sparkling in absolute delight. A sly grin started to slither across his light pink lips revealing a pair of pearly whites.

"Isn't this a surprise, Rose. I didn't know that you wanted me this badly or I would've been inclined to come earlier," His chuckle irritated me. It had to be not even 10 and someone was trying to kill any chances of me having a good day. I blinked away some of the sleep that had encrusted itself to my lashes and then started to rub my eyes. For once I couldn't give a care to riposte.

"Coffee" I muttered trying to stifle another yawn and I felt a hand press into the right side of my shoulder pushing me back into my room.

He steered my back towards my lovely bed. Oh how I had missed you, darling bed. I looked him over once again, seeing a hand behind his back and the faint aroma of coffee beans grounded and heated to utter perfection. Well that's what I was imagining and hoping. Slowly he pulled his left hand away from his back to show me my coffee cup. Tentatively I sniffed it, before sending a curious glance in his direction.

"Two sugars, Hazelnut coffee-mate and a dab of honey right or am I going to have to do some damage?"

He nodded holding both of his hands up in surrender, and kicked my pants up into the air catching them and tossing them to my side and grabbed the rolling chair that was by my computer desk. He leaned over and waited, patiently I had to admit which was slightly odd. However, I didn't have the brain power to actually think it through and I took a rather hefty gulp of the steaming hot liquid. The searing heat of the caffeine made its way down my esophagus, and though the pain was intense, I was instantly warmed up.

"Okay now what is it that you want at this Godly hour, Andre?"

Andre was a man of many faces, many tricks and by God many words. With his good looks, his height and his stature in the community it seemed that every slut in a 3-mile walking distance was attracted to his beauty. That I wasn't going to deny. Andre was a very handsome man but he wasn't my type and by God he knew it. His hands interlocked with one another as his body etched forward, his elbows digging into his dark pant suit. His eyes held many emotions but the one that I was able to clearly see was annoyance.

"Rose, you've been here for 3 months. Not that I honestly have a problem with you being here but the problem that I have is that you're hiding. From what I don't have the slightest clue. Do I want to know? Damn right I do. Will I hassle you? No, not really but I do have my ways. Plus, my sister is worried about you and when I try to pry for more information all I get is the silent treatment," His voice rose with almost each word that was filled with emotional rage. "_Quite sexy I had to admit, that was a first,"_ I thought to myself. He took a breath half way and continued his rampage, which was absolutely justified.

I was still trying to lay low but I couldn't be overstaying my welcome and freeloading on the Dragomir's for much longer. I had to get back in the field and get the cash to start flowing once again. 3 months out of heisting was to other thieves an eternity. Time changed in 3 months. People start to forget that you exist or even start to blacklist you from their rather paying sources and when that happens finding work that gets you enough cash to pay your rent as well as other necessities becomes scarce. It's like starting at the bottom of the food chain again. Something I did _not_ want to have to go through. Once, my friend was enough.

I came to New York not just to hide away at my best friends Manhattan apartment until shit with my previous "client" cooled over. Seems that 3 months was a justifiable amount of time, it had to be. I nodded to Andre who was still talking but not as elaborate as he was just a few seconds before. He changed the subject of the conversation from me staying and him wanting to know what the hell I was doing freeloading to talking about a woman who had caught his eye. Immediately, I tuned him out and reverted to sipping my warmed coffee.

I had to come up with a plan. The top of my list were the following:

-Numero Uno: Job

-Numero dos: Cash

-Numero tres: Dega

-Numero quatro: Plane ticket

Now if I could just figure out a way to get numero uno I was at a start but I couldn't ask Andre and I had couldn't be stuck in an office filing papers for clients who were stuck up snobs. I had to be out in the danger zone.

Silence filled my room and as curious as I was to see the reasoning that I was blessed with the emptiness it was a short fall. Andre scoffed, pushing up from the rolling chair and left the room sending a wink towards my direction and his eyes roamed across my crossed figure. Something passed from his lips about having an important meeting that he had to be present in and how a woman was suing her boss for cheating on her. Shocking as that was, it wasn't any of my business. When Andre left my room, I was left to my own devices. Firstly, I had to empty my bladder that was crying out in protest. Not wanting to anger my body to the point where it was going to start a war, I left once again the addicting warmth and padded out of my bedroom. Technically, it was the guest-room but since I had been here longer than the average guest had I felt that I had bragging rights to the title, and hauled over to the white bathroom.

:-:

I was to be meeting Lissa over at Buceo 95 by three for a late lunch and discuss some interesting topics that shouldn't be talked around other Dragomir's… well other normal people in general. My closet held necessities, nothing fancy except for a skinny black dress. I pulled out a pair of Paul by Paul Smith Indigo Denim cropped jeans from the hanger and pulled a James Perse white long sleeved V-neck Rib T-Shirt. A lot of the things I had were things Lissa felt that I needed to have and no matter what protests I pushed from my pretty lips it seemed to just go through one ear and out the other; the delete button was on major overload when it came to what Lissa thought I should wear. It was slightly chilly these past few days as we were in the end of July; I was sad to say goodbye to Summer. At the front of the closet was the Deep Jade Precis jacket that Lissa had gotten a few weeks ago and I felt that it'd make a nice ensemble. To top it all off I was in a pair of black Mui Mui's and some nice bangle bracelets before I treaded out of the apartment. My eyes not really roaming across the designer pieces of furniture, to the highly expensive paintings and sculptures that were happily hanging on the wall, were propped up on a stool or on an end table.

The inability to control the habit of stealing things that were of high value was starting to honestly take a toll on me. I didn't envy the rich but I did find that those who held a greater amount of money from their hard work did tend to have the most exquisite taste in priceless beauties. Now that I was jealous of, but I didn't have the honest time to actually want to get a normal society job. There was no fun in working from 9-5 doing the repetitive day in and day out. I was a thrill seeker; an adrenaline junkie.

I steered myself into the overly spacious kitchen and thought "Martha Stewart would kill to design this kitchen. I wondered if Martha was a cook, I couldn't remember but I skipped towards the Kenmore fridge and spied around for something to please my grumbling stomach. Spotting some cupped yogurt, I snagged it and slammed the door shut with the back of my hells and skidded to my left opening the drawer and pulling out a silver spoon.

_Never would I get used to this, _ I thought to myself ripping the aluminum seal from the cup and digging in, stuffing my mouth full of strawberry goodness. The digital numbers on the oven stated that it was just after noon and I decided that I might as well get there early, shock Lissa into having a heart attack and happily splurge. Grabbing my keys, I locked the door behind me, slipped on my Ray Ban Wayfarers', and walked down the quiet hallway towards the elevator pushing the down arrow.

The ding of the elevator alerted me that my ride had just shown up and when the metal doors swayed open, I entered punching the L button to take me towards the lobby. It was a few floors down and I leaned against the brass railings at the back and allowed myself to review the dream that I had experienced again for the third night straight. It wasn't a figment of my imagination that the Strigoi family had a bounty on my head for the reason that I didn't hand them over the painting that they expected me to.

_At least they got something; _I mentally scoffed allowing myself to open the sealed door that was May. To think about then was slightly unnerving.

_Sirens were blazing everywhere. The cops had showed up with private detectives all in tow. I stood across the Museum, watching with enjoyment. Not many people could slip into any museum, steal their most prized showcase and escape without alerting the graveyard shift of guards. I could've snorted. A gust of French wind waved towards my direction causing my long dark tresses to lift in a wave behind me. French journalists tried to competitively get the latest story for their networks or to sell and camera operators with their reporters were at the scene where a loaned art piece was stolen. The gates to the museum were starting to open and an elderly man with graying hair stepped out. Reporters and their people started rolling their camera's asking questions from left to right, asking if it was true that it was an inside job or if a civilian had snuck during visiting hours and snatched the painting. _

_The man held up his hand and looked at each camera for a millisecond and from where I was standing it seemed that he was trying to figure out what he was going to tell the world. "__There does not seem to be any signs of breaking and entering," the city's public prosecutor Jacques Dallest voiced out towards the cameras taking a quick breath. "But, we are letting the detectives do their work to find the culprit. That is all." He nodded curtly and walked past the cameras towards a red-parked Ligier JS2 before entering and driving away._

_I raised my hand to my lips to obviously hide the smile that was creeping across my features and thought, "Well of course they aren't going to get much done. It was quite simple to unscrew the painting from the canvas wall. An amateur could've done the task even." Spending too much time at the crime scene without doing anything productive would alert those who were perhaps watching, so I took my leave towards my rental car for the day. It was a blue Aixam Crossline. Tucked underneath the seats was the Dega, neatly rolled into a container where the overexposure wouldn't do any excess damage. As I slid into the driver's side of the car, I pulled out my burn phone and pressed re-dial._

_Words in French spoke to me quickly stating that the call was being transferred and following was the natural soft ringing of the call being waiting to be answered._

The elevator door opened and I walked across the glossy tiled floor, the heels of my ankle spikes chattering across with each step I took. I passed the Receptionist booth that was in the center of the large lobby. Andy, the manager of the establishment met my gaze and nodded to which I could not help but grin.

"Slow today again Andy my man?"

His eyes grew slightly darker at my comment and he leaned over the top and sighed.

"Miss Hathaway, a pleasure it is always to see you. Today is a fairly normal day, thank you for asking. Enjoy your time out," His curt and professional voice called my way.

I rolled my eyes, added a soft "Pfft," before waving to him, and exited the front door. Today around this time, the bellhop was out to lunch and thankfully so. The boy was overworked by just standing and looking at people pass him by in his Maroon red uniform and matching hat where at the breast-pocket and middle of the hat had the apartments' Letter's KW which stood for Key West.

Since I had a few hours to kill, I flagged a cabbie down and stated that I wanted him to drive me to Metropolitan Museum of Art. Not very much was said, but the man was very proficient in getting me there in just about 30 minutes to which I handed him the 60 dollars and told him to keep the change. Standing before me was the beautiful Greek like structure with large decorative columns that reminded me of what would be holding up Mount Olympus.

As I climbed up the stairs, I noticed a lot of people today sitting and playing some bluegrass tunes and eating their snacks before ultimately departing back into the museum or to their work. I smiled at a small school of children who were tossing their foods at one another and a woman who was barking orders telling them to behave themselves or else their guardians would be called to take them home. I sniggered and felt the cool breeze of the air conditioning fan across my cool skin.

"Oh look who we have here, out of all days," A cheery masculine voice called and I looked around trying to find the voice. Something about the familiarity of it was irking but out of the thousands of people who visit this museum, surely I wasn't the intended person. I walked past the guards and walked up the stairs towards the second floor, where the Frans Hals gallery was being showcased. I started to pass by the stunning portraits of Paulus Verschuur and The Smokers when the same voice called from behind me.

A man at least 7 feet towered in front of me, his dark hazel orbs gleaming into my own. I tilted my head and tried to bypass him. Surely, I didn't know this man… At least I thought I didn't. The man let out a sigh and grabbed my arm to which my eyes widened to.

"Miss Hathaway, correct?" He softly asked not trying to cause attention to be brought to himself which was a very hard thing to do if you were a stunning model man that was the size of a giant. Oh yeah, very hard. I yanked my arm from his large hand.

"Yes, and who the hell are you?" I yelled in a hushed whisper.

The man straightened up and pulled the suit jacket down, removing any wrinkles that could've blemished the fabric and held out his hand to me.

"Terribly sorry, I'm Dimitri Belikov." He gave me a shit-eating smile that showed his perfection of peered teeth and I started at him in shock.

_Holy shit, I'm fucked. _Well one thing's for sure, Lissa was probably going to be waiting for me a tad bit longer than expected, as the man who was standing in front of me was the man who I sent my life to practically. Did he know who I was? How could he have found me, especially when I was using my mother's maiden name? _Well fuck me sideways. _

**A/N:** Well hello there darlings of the Fanfiction and Vampire Academy verse! I cannot believe all the feedback and support about my newest fic that I am actually really looking forward to work on. Now I'm looking for a qualified beta who isn't afraid of details and is willing to help me organize how I want this story to flow. I have so many ideas and honestly I know I suck at timing x3 So if you want to give this a shot or know someone, please PM me! Oh and before I forget I have posted the banner and I'll be posting pics of characters and stuff.

Let me know what you think about this chapter!

Always yours,

Bloodrope


	3. Chapter 2: Weak and powerless

_**Title:**__ The Mission_

_**Author:**__ Bloodrope_

_**Fandom:**__ Vampire Academy_

_**Rating:**__ T_

_**Previously on The Mission:**__ "__Terribly sorry, I'm Dimitri Belikov." He gave me a shit-eating smile that showed his perfection of pearled teeth and I started at him in shock. 'Holy shit, I'm fucked.' Well one thing's for sure, Lissa was probably going to be waiting for me a tad bit longer than expected, as the man who was standing in front of me was the man who I sent my life to practically. Did he know who I was? How could he have found me, especially when I was using my mother's maiden name? 'Well fuck me sideways.' _

**Chapter 2:**

"_The crime isn't the hard part; it's getting away with it."_

I'm probably a hundred percent sure that the look of fear scattered across my face like a mother who just found out that her perfect child actually put gum into her arch nemesis' hair in retaliation. Now when I most desperately needed to throw up my ever-present wall that showed neither emotion nor any care in the world, came tumbling down like Jericho's wall. Quite honestly, I was scared. So many emotions ravished my internal mind, questioning as to why he was here in New York; here in front of me, well Rose Hathaway not Rosemarie Mazur. I shook my head in a feeble attempt to regain my senses, which were desperately needed to face him. His dark hazel eyes blazed tinged green by the lighting from the ceiling yet nevertheless it was breathtaking.

There was a slight look of misunderstanding on his features and I flashed him an alluring smile in attempt to act as though my previous internal meltdown/freak-out was not vital to the point of non-existence. Hopefully it'd work.

I knew who Dimitri Belikov was. Many people knew him as an art-collector and gallery owner extraordinaire in California among other things to help the community. I personally knew of him because when I sent him the painting that was supposed to be for the Strigoi family, instead got "mistakenly" mixed up.

_As I waited patiently for my flamboyant and arrogant client to be ever so courteously to answer the damn phone, I started the SUV and as I started to pull out, I heard the gruff voice of his second in command, Elena. Gosh the woman might be stunning in person if you were into the whole stick figures but when she opened that fat trap of hers, let's just say that not even her beauty could make up for it. _

"_What?" The nasally voice sneered into the phone. _

_It seemed that I might've disturbed her precious time with her boss but I didn't give the slightest damn. My job was to get the painting, call and get the money at the drop, which was at the warehouse. After that, I didn't know what I was going to do. I held back profanities with all the might I could possibly muster and just to amuse myself, I grimly smiled into the receiver._

"_Hi, Elena! Listen Isaiah is actually waiting for me to call him so could you be a doll and pass him the damn phone?" _

_I wanted to growl as she scoffed into the phone about how when she saw me she was going to show how much of a doll she was in person. I heard ruffling of things and a door opening before her voice called out loudly. My hands were firmly wrapped against the steering wheel and my knee started jostling in sudden anticipation. A few seconds later I heard his suave voice state for Elena to stop standing there and to bring him the phone. That I was an important client that needed to be taken care of. _

_I even rolled my eyes at that part and I could almost swear that it was the same thing Elena did if her boss probably wasn't waiting for the telephone. Who knows maybe she'd do it after she left among a few things, how was I supposed to know? _

_A few coughs later, his melodic voice consumed the left side of my ear giving me chills. _

"_Miss Mazur, it's a pleasure you've called. I was beginning to get worried especially with the reports. To be honest though, I'm quite disappointed that you caused the police to be involved."_

"_My apologies, Isaiah. Something's are just inevitable you know. That risk had to be taken. Overall, I wasn't caught so that shouldn't be worrying you. You'll be getting something soon though, so don't fret," I sassily replied. In my mind, I was giving him the finger muttering that he should try to break into a museum, get out in 10 minutes without setting alarms, and see what he says. Yeah I thought so, you need to have utmost precession and that old geezer probably couldn't wipe his ass without his fingers shaking. The thoughts that started to multiply in my head caused me to break out in a grin._

"_You will have the Dega for me tomorrow." _

_It wasn't a question more a direct order and I inhaled deeply twirling my tongue in circles in my mouth. _

"_Isn't that what I just said?" _

_He snorted before reiterating that I was to be at the warehouse by tomorrow evening 11:30 at the latest or else and hung up the phone._

_Or else? Who is he trying to be the boogieman that is going to come out from under my closet and drag me into the closet to be tortured? He needs someone, preferably Elena to teach him some current lingo. Old school ways were being tossed out by the second and you had to be flexible with the times if you wanted your points across. Internally though, the thoughts of "Or else" did make me uneasy. I had a very imaginative mind and to be stuck with those unpromising images and scenarios were ghastly._

_I pulled out from the side parking area and sped through the narrow streets to get to the main streets where I went back to my loft… Technically, it wasn't mine but seeing as the owners of the beautiful studio had decided to go on a Vacation to India who was I to not keep the place tidy and be a helpful stranger? Of course I would… maybe even add some modifications. _

_As I drove down the street that was a block away from the Loft, I parked the car on the side of the street resting my head on the thick leather wheel. I wanted to pound my head constantly until I caused a concussion or massive head trauma; something that would get me out of meeting the Strigoi group. Anything would've done but alas it seems that the starts which were hidden by the Sun's overbearing rays were covered and had decided to be on strike when it came to anything Mazur related. _

"_Get ahold of yourself Rose. This is a job. We complete jobs even if it goes against morals if you want to live remember?" I tried to make myself see reason that tonight's meet would go on, to try and psych myself into my old mentality that if it got me cash I'd steal anything that I could. It worked slightly and I had enough courage to add some spice to tonights meeting. Grinning, I stopped my assault to my precious head, exited the vehicle, and made my way to the back seat where I pulled out a black bag and slipped my hand underneath the seats to pull out the circular container that held the stolen work of art. A surge of pride enveloped my entire core. _

_I stole Edgar Degas' painting. I got away with it… well so far I have. I had to be careful if I didn't want to get caught and spend the rest of my entertaining life in a cell that had steel bars as the accessory of choice. My father would absolutely enjoy that scene and probably catalog it to be replayed for the rest of my life. It would be unacceptable. _

_Slipping the container into the bag, I pulled back and shut the door closed taking in my surroundings. Old style buildings gathered on one side bring a vintage feel while on the other side new more modern styles of buildings graced the sides. A flush of a light peach painted the building, which had splashes of white on the rails and framed the windows. From where I stood there had to be at least 4 floors to each apartment. Cars parked on the side of the roads and some women were walking their dogs or chatting on cellphones. As nostalgic as it felt, I figured that having to deal with the same routine would get rather tiring. I couldn't understand how normal people could handle such a task. Normal… The word itself was false. To what in the world is normal. Who in this world can classify themselves a hundred percent to say that they are normal? What is the actual definition of being normal? Is it being someone who you aren't, to try and fit into the mold that people desire? If any of those questions had a yes then I didn't want to be normal. I'd be quite content in being an eccentric soul. _

_Normally it'd take me about 10 minutes to walk a block towards the more suburban style townhomes that could've been pictured in Style. France in itself was of high fashion but also had fascinating architecture though in some places it looked like your average neighborhood in the States. I might have been out of the country, in a foreign land, but in reality each city had something that reminded me of home and it was more interesting to find out and pick through the similarities. Such being the man's home who I have invaded. I walked through the gardened pathway behind some of the other loft doors, went up the stoned steps towards the rusty coloured door, and lifted my hand to above the railing. The brass key fumbled within my fingers and after I grasped it, I slipped it into the lock, this time not checking my surroundings that had been a habit. _

_The sweet smell of lilacs filled my senses giving it a slight feminine aura to the room due to the air freshener. As I shut the door, the reassuring click of the lock going into place my eyes habitually scanned the room. Times like this I felt like Jason Bourne ready for someone to sneak in and was on high alert. My quickened heartbeat was sounding in my ears in loud clomps but I quickly tried to push out the raging sense of paranoia. It must be getting to my head. It just has to be. With the meeting happening tomorrow, I had to come up with an idea, a way to get what I wanted which was the money but not really turn over the Dega so that it could be placed on the Black-market. A painting as beautiful and as vintage as __Les Choristes__shouldn't be exposed to the world for a battle to begin. _

_I had to snap out of it and think. Ideas started to form. What if I decided to forge the painting? It'd take time, precession and heat for the cracking to be precise so that it could be referenced from the 1800's. On the other hand, I could just leave town? The chicken-shit way to go. To be a laughing stock and referenced as a coward… Was I willing to go so low? No. It seemed that the only plausible way to get out alive with the painting and the money seemed to be forging it. Letting out a groan, I dropped the bag onto the chestnut hardwood floors. _

_Bricks lined the East, South and Western walls in beautiful reds and charcoals while the free wall was painted ivory. Dark leather lounge chairs and a couch rested on the walls with a glass coffee table in the middle. Nothing was honestly fancy about the place but it was slightly cozy for a being in a stranger's home. Some plants were scattered in pots by the windows, needing to be watered. It wasn't my job to be this nobody's housekeeper so I grabbed the bag and casually walked up the flight of stairs towards what looked to be an office while a few feet away a curtain closed off a small bedroom where a plain mattress was elevated with blue sheets. _

_The office area is what I was more fixated about, as it was my base where I had conducted for a week or so investigations on just the layout of the museum, what type of security and how many guards were roaming about. Uniformed and hidden about besides minor things such as opening closing; when the employees left for the night. I had also looked into escape routes from the museum to boats to borrow and escape from the island of sorts to perhaps the UK where I could take a flight and escape. To go off the grid. Papers and pictured lingered and were tapped onto the walls as a result of my thorough planning. What was on the table I pushed off with a sway of my hand, knocking it all onto the hardwood floors where the papers flowed their way under the couch and the table itself. _

_I expertly pulled out, placed the Dega painting on the table, used little weights to keep the corners from rolling inward, and leaned forward towards the painting looking for cracks and distinctive brush strokes to mimic besides finding the adequate paper that would fit the time. The strokes were going in an upward formation with at least a 3 mm brush. Sun angle would be during late spring early fall where the days of light were decreasing. The specific shadows that were where the man where jollying with their arms outstretched and behind them. The specific oils that Edgar Degas used for his paintings were mass-produced globally and it seemed that the blues and the reds were from slight carbon bases, which I didn't have. _

_I exhaled loudly and searched my back pocket for my burn-phone and dialed the all too familiar number that I'd use on dire emergencies. This I honestly believed was considered so. _

"_You have reached the office of Ibrahim Mazur, this is Sophia how may I direct your call?" A bored yet professional tone sweetly slurred. _

"_Yeah Sophie, this is Rose can you put me through to my father? It's an emergency." _

_I was in no shape or mood to deal with any bullshit and the woman on the phone remained silent for a minute. _

"_Please hold," was all she stated and the melodic classical music filled my ears. My foot tapped against the wood floor and my eyes roamed across the painting again, probably for the millionth time. _

"_Come on you stupid old fool, answer the damn phone. I'm not one of million dollar clients who sit on their ass for a living," I growled to the receiver._

_A dark chuckle resumed from the words, which I had spoken to, and I couldn't help but mentally throw my hands up in the air. How my cursing and distaste for my father would actually get him to answer the phone. Delightful, next time I should just do that from the beginning._

"_This stupid old fool that you are referring to is actually busy Rosemarie. And this Stupid old fool is actually in a meeting with foreign companies who are looking for some precious artifacts. Now what is your dire emergency? Are you out of money and you're signaling the bat light?"_

_I rolled my eyes at the whole bat light. How old did he think I was, 5? Still believing in such things as Superhero's when I know they are just a figment of people's imagination. I bit back though a snarky comment about the whole foreigners that were probably in his office drinking tea or their Russian Vodka. _

"_No I don't need any money from you, Old man. I do need a favor though," I stated with clench teeth. _

_I knew that the man on the other side of the phone was my father, yes and that he'd do whatever he could to make me happy but there were just some things that couldn't be fixed. He knew that I saw him as a tool and nothing more. A tool that could bring me business and also a tool that I could trade items that I had collected for things that I needed. It was known to all. _

_The infamous Abe Mazur was quite for a few seconds, though to me it felt like ages. My blood was rapidly coursing through my veins in anticipation. What if he denied my request of a favor? What if I couldn't get the painting completed by 11pm tomorrow in time to meet the Strigoi's? Should I even tell him about it? No, I couldn't. I briskly deleted the thought from ever entering my mind and chastised myself. _

"_Speak, daughter. If it is in my power, I'll see that it'll be in your hands." His stern yet truthful voice stated. _

_A surge of relief consumed me and I started telling him how I was in need of some oil pastels and a 37x37 cm canvas as soon as he possibly could; that I had a deadline by 10 tomorrow. He asked where I was staying and I told him Marseilles, France to which he grumbled something that was incoherent to my ears. He told me that he'd call one of his old contacts that owed him a favor and call me when I was to pick it up. _

_I didn't want to ask just what was he going to do to get me the supplies but thanked him and hung up. _

I didn't know how to really act around Dimitri. So instead, I took a step away from him and took a few partial steps towards the first painting that was in the showcase; **Boy with a Lute by Frans Hals. **My eyes were transfixed on how the boys fingers were positioned and how the shot glass was positioned between his right hand while leaning against his left shoulder was the Lute. I could hear his footsteps from behind and flickered my gaze to the floor where his shadow was overpowering before resuming my critique of the boy.

"It's a beautiful piece of art," Dimitri stated as a matter of fact.

I couldn't help but mentally say, "Good one Sherlock, how about a cookie" but stated to him, "Well of course it's beautiful. Art itself holds amounts of beauty that illuminates something within each person's soul."

He nodded and moved on to the next painting that was just a few feet away from where I was currently standing. I stood there watching his large form slowly inch away from me with every step he took.

He turned towards my direction and I couldn't help but watch as strands of hair seemed to be escaping from the band that was tied to the nape of his neck, holding the forest of dark chocolate in one place rather than letting it roam free.

I stared at him in utter disbelief. Did he expect me to follow him like a dog? For me to just obey his every hypnotizing knowing stare? No. I refuse. He could fuck a duck for all I cared.

A buzzing in my buttocks caused me to in a very cliché movie that the protagonists gets a phone call in the middle of some horror story when she wishes she had it turned off before the killer chops her to tiny pieces, jump up a few centimeters. I was embarrassed and I could probably note that a color that resembled the cherry color heated on the apples of my olive tone cheeks.

Ceasing the moment, I grabbed the phone from where it always seems to be attached to and saw Lissa's name flash on the screen and with a few glares of the people in the museum answered it.

I didn't even have a second to take a breath before I hear,

"Rose! I mean come on where are you? I've been waiting here for 10 minutes. Where the hell are you? I called home and you didn't answer. Wait…. You're not having hot steamy sex are you? You didn't get arrested did you?" Her breathing escalated a few notches and it seemed that she was trying to control herself. I could just picture her beautiful face, her jade eyes that seem to run through every Dragomir darkening with utter fury.

I waited a few seconds to make sure that she wasn't going to go in for round two and walked away from the paintings noting that two caught my eye and that I might just take another look at them at another time… after hours.

I took the steps down the stairs quickly as I could in heels and when I was close to the door, I sighed in slight relief almost forgetting I had a pissed off Lissa on the other line. _Damage control, Rose. Go now!_

"I'm really sorry Lissa! I sorta forgot about the time. You see… Wait did you just ask if I was having hot passionate sex? The answer would be no because if I was you would be speaking to my answering machine while I'm going wild." A dark grin sketched itself onto my features at teasing her, though even I knew it wasn't a smart thing.

"Look, I'm alive, not in jail, and not screwing the living daylights out of anyone. I'm at the Museum just looking at the new showcase they're having… I am going to haul a cabbie right now and have lunch with you. Therefore, when you see me you can tear me to dragon pieces. How's that sound?" I tried to sound innocent, yet I bet I just sounded like I was making excuses. Walking down the mass amount of stairs from the museum, I locked my hand onto the railing and then took off towards the street where I was waving my arm like a banshee hoping to get someone's attention.

I did, thankfully or I was going to have to walk which wouldn't have been a pretty sight.

"So they haven't banned you from the museum yet, Rose?"

She seemed interested in me being in the museum and I could not blame her. Lissa and I have known each other since we were forced to sit next to each other in Kindergarten. That wasn't the bad part. It was the teacher who was channeling a demon when she forced us to write out our full names. Mine being Rosemarie Mazur and hers being Valissa Dragomir. Being the young innocent child that I was, I didn't say anything until she turned her back to us, grabbed one of the toys from the bucket, and chucked it at her head in retaliation.

Life in the principal's office was a joy that day but it was like gluing us together and ever since then we were best friends. Lissa knew about my life, knew what happened with the Strigoi and offered me sanctuary until everything died down.

Lissa also knew that I have been banned from three different government run museums. A beautiful thing to have your résumé I thought.

"You seemed surprised about that Lissa? Where you having a bet to see when I'd get the boot? I'm hurt."

Her soft laughter was like music to my ears and I directed the cabbie to the restaurant where I was to meet my best friend.

"Of course not! I wouldn't ever bet against you. Plus, it's not being surprised but frankly intrigued by the people who are running the place. To think that you aren't on their radar is just fascinating."

I knew that I shouldn't have taken her words as seriously as I did but I just felt like it was a jab. It hurt that even my best friend had doubts of my greatness. Well though my pride had been knocked down a few notches it'd surely be returning to its original posture soon.

"Listen I just got into the Cab and I'll be there soon okay?"

"Alright, see you later."

I rested my head against the headrest of the air filled scented cab and took in the darkness as my lids closed over my eyes.

_:-:_

I walked into the slightly loud and lively restaurant and stood on the tip of my toes to see if I could see the locks of blond hair. However there were a few blonds, but I walked towards the hostess and told her I was looking for a woman. I stated that she was waiting for me and motioned me towards the left side of the shop, smiling.

I nodded thanking her and walked between tables and took my seat in a booth across from her. Her eyes met mine and she put down the menu that had her utmost attention while I was gone. I tried to give her a 'Please forgive me, you know you want to' smile to try and guilt her into it and she leaned forward.

"So what's showing at the museum that has gotten your attention to miss lunch with your best friend?"

I was busted. I wondered if she'd believe me if I told her that Dimitri Belikov was there, and how he had seemed to know who I was but was very cordial about it. Or would she rather believe that I was drawn to the important pieces of art that I could get my hands on without even the security cameras and motion detectors knowing?

I figured the latter, but I told her the truth. Her mouth fell slightly agape and when the server asked what I'd like to have to drink she was still in the whole shock mode.

Turning to the woman in a very homey outfit of a yellow sundress and flats and a red hibiscus flower in her hair I asked for a coke with no ice but two lemons and took that opportunity to gaze through the menu.

"You don't think that if he knows who you are that the Strigoi do too right?"

She wounded worried, which was in Lissa's nature. One that I loved to absolute pieces but her worrying about something that could be wrong wasn't good for her and I felt guilty for letting her in on that.

I hadn't actually thought about the Strigoi really for a month. I wondered if they had given up their search for me, for the painting and lastly their money. I knew that out of all the places in the world that I couldn't go to see neither my father nor my mother who were in California and Illinois. Nevertheless, I took the chance with my best friend. It seemed that she went unnoticed on their charts and I prayed to whatever being there was.

"I don't know Lissa, but it's been a few months. They're probably checking all abandoned and unlisted islands before coming here." I tried to be nonchalant about it. My best friends' eyes flashed with worry but it wasn't for her wellbeing which annoyed the living daylights out of me. Her worry shouldn't be placed on me but to her family.

Scanning the menu, I decided on having a bowl of red rice, and some pulled pork. Lissa stated to the woman what we'd like and took off towards the back to dispose of the order and have it filled.

It was eerie to be in this awkward silence with Lisaa while everyone else in the shop was loud, lively and even laughing. Spanish music poured out from speakers and the dimmed lights that were above us had stained glass with men with guitars, but I knew that they were called something else and other musical instruments. Some even had flowers and dancers.

Silence wasn't something I could deal with especially from her but if she wanted to talk, I'd always listen to her and she knew it. It seemed though she was battling herself. Her brows furrowed inward and a crease formed on her forehead while her lips were in a grim line.

Minutes later, she shocked the hell out of me with her statement.

"You're taking me with you on your next job."

I was at the time taking a sip of my yummy coke that had tints of tartness to it and coughed loudly as the liquid went down the wrong pipe. As my eyes watered, I looked in her direction to see the utmost determination and the finality in her jaded hues. She was serious and she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

When I got myself situated on not dying and breathing normally I shook my head. I wouldn't involve her in something that she didn't need to be.

"No you're not Lissa. You have a job with your Dad's company. That and Andre would kill me."

"You're taking me with you Rose, whether you like it or not."

I felt like a broken record. Really I did. How was I supposed to make my point across that I was the hunted, that my life was on the line and I didn't want hers to be either?

Frowning it seemed that no matter what I said, she wasn't going to budge.

"Fine, but you're going to deal with your brother."

"That's easy."

I thought to myself, _For you it'd be. For me I'm going to be chopped liver._

**A/N:** Phew well here's a late chapter 2. I'm absolutely floored by the many Favorites and Alerts that I'm getting! It's making me smile. So posting schedule: I'm going to be gunning for Fridays unless Real Life calls. I saw this on another story and I sorta wanted to try it. **Still looking for a beta. PM if interested!**

**Pop Quiz: **(No not really but tell me what you think in a Review as well as your comments!)

Do you think Dimitri knows who Rose actually is?

Does Lissa really believe that Rose is done with her cons?

Do you think that the Strigoi family knows that Rose has popped back up?

Love always,

Bloodrope


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